


A Little Too Earnestly

by deniallisstrong



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aerobics Instructor Liam, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Dancer Liam, Dancer Liam Payne, Dancer Zayn, Dancing, Fitness Instructor Liam, Fluff, Harry is Harry, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Famous Liam, Non-Famous Zayn, OT5, OT5 Friendship, Pining, Pole Dancing, Pole Dancing Instructor, Protective Liam, Shy Zayn, Teacher Liam, Tender Liam, Worried Liam, kind of, lol, sexy Zayn, sexy liam, side larry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 03:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13378827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniallisstrong/pseuds/deniallisstrong
Summary: “Pole dancing is an art, Zayn,” Harry says slowly. “And you, my dear, are an artist."Zayn perks a little at that. He knows Harry’s only saying it because he wants to convince him to go, and yet, he still smiles at the words."And, you know, you do owe me,” Harry says a little too sweetly as he bats his eyelashes.Feeling himself resigning, he shrugs. “Okay, I guess. How hard can it be?”The answer, it turns out, isvery.This is a filled request for the prompt:Liam is a dance teacher (the writer decides the dance style later on) and Zayn is the clueless new student who came forced to class and ended up staying for the handsome teacher.





	A Little Too Earnestly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ibelieveinloveandangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ibelieveinloveandangels/gifts).



> I’ve been wanting to write an au with pole dancing instructor Liam and shy Zayn for months now—then this prompt came along and it ended up fitting exactly what I was needing to actually make this idea a reality. Ibelieveinloveandangels, thank you so much for the request, and I really do hope you like how it all turned out! :)
> 
> And, secondly, thank you so much to my friend for giving me some tips on what pole dancing classes typically look like and what pole dancing entails/how to do it. As well, I give credit to all the YouTube videos out there that showed me the basics of pole dancing, etc. As always, there may be errors in how I chose to portray all this, since most of this came from secondhand research. Please let me know if I made any mistakes in the process!

“Hey, Zayn,” Harry says casually through a bite of pasta.

“Hey, Haz,” Zayn replies easily, rubbing his head fondly as he passes. Padding into the kitchen to grab a drink, a little smile takes over his features. “What’s up?” He reaches for a glass.

Completely ignoring Zayn, Harry looks up from the breakfast nook he’s sitting at. “I have a question for you.” He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s barreling on. “What would I have to do to convince you to go to a pole dancing class with me?” He asks, sounding completely serious.

Zayn blinks at this, lifting the glass and then suddenly setting it back down as he tries to process what he just heard. Turning around to catch Harry’s eye, Zayn sputters, “I’m sorry, what?” but it comes out between a hint of a snicker, slipping out of his mouth as he tries to hold back a full-fledged one.

However, thankfully, all of this gets drowned out by the sudden cackles and whooping and hollering that comes from the room over.

When Zayn chances a glance, he finds that Niall and Louis have completely forgone their racing game, controllers sitting slack in their lifeless hands. Forgetting their immense need to win, they’ve trained their focus on their even _more_ immense need to embarrass Harry whenever possible.

“I wanna see this” are the first words heard. And while Louis’ words are supposed to maybe have a twinge of sarcasm behind it, it just ends up coming out breathless and in awe, as if Louis actually _would_ give up anything at this very moment to witness such a thing.

“No,” Harry snaps. “It’s probably bad luck or something.”

Louis snorts. “I’m pretty sure you’re thinking of a wedding.” Pouting, he whines, “There’s a difference between seeing a bride in their wedding dress and me watching you learn to pole dance to impress me.” He lowers his voice to add, “Not that you need to.”

Niall gives Louis a light whack. “Don’t spoil it for yerself.” He rolls his eyes. “Jesus! Have some willpower, will you?”

Niall pauses just slightly before continuing. “Besides, Harry can’t take you, because he wants to take _me.”_

A laugh bursts out of Harry’s mouth at these words. “ _You?_ ” He wheezes. “I didn’t think you’d ever be caught dead at one of those things.”

Zayn interjects, feeling slightly confused as he says, “And you thought _I_ would?”

“ _Well,”_ Niall mopes, completely ignoring Zayn as he crosses his arms. “I like to be _asked,_ at least.”

“Niall,” Harry says slowly. “Would you like to go to a pole dancing class with me?”

Niall laughs and laughs at that. “No,” he finally gets out breathlessly between one more roaring laugh, wiping away a tear.

“That’s what I thought,” Harry deadpans. “Thanks for the support.”

“Anytime,” Niall says, and it sounds like he really does _truly_ mean it seriously, but it’s barely audible through Niall’s chuckles. And, well, that ruins the effect a bit.

“Okayyyy,” Zayn drawls, trying to bring the conversation back to its original topic. “So you thought _I’d_ be interested, then?”

“Pole dancing is an _art_ , Zayn,” Harry says slowly. “And you, my dear, are an artist.”

Zayn perks a little at that. He knows Harry’s only saying it because he wants to convince him to go, and yet, he still smiles at the words.

He doesn’t let himself linger on them too long, though, blinking the words away as he tries his best to keep his focus on the topic at hand. “That’s nice and all…” He starts, trailing off as he tries to think of a good enough reason to stay home, an excuse that Harry won’t be able to poke holes through in half a second. “But I don’t _dance.”_ He gives Harry his best-acted disappointed look, as if saying, _oh, damn, but I_ so _wish I did_. “Never really did, even as a teenager.”

Harry ponders this for a moment, swaying his head from side to side. “That… is true,” he admits softly. “But I bet you’d be good at it, considering how many love-struck _fans_ of yours fall to your feet every single second of every single day.” At this, Zayn remembers with a sigh that it’s _impossible_ to find an excuse that Harry isn’t able to argue his way out of.

Zayn snorts but doesn’t deny it, except to huff, “They’re not _fans.”_

“Aficionados? Admirers? Groupies?” Harry flicks his wrist in the air. “Take your pick.”

Choosing to _not_ do anything close to that, Zayn asks instead, “What’s all this got to do with anything again?”

Harry smirks, looking a little too much like Louis for Zayn’s taste. “It means you’re sexy. And that you’re more than capable of looking fucking good as you rock it on a pole.” Harry clears his throat, ignoring Louis’ protests in the back. “Never know when that might come in handy.” He flips his head to Louis. “And don’t pretend you haven’t thought the same thing.”

Louis shuts up at this.

Zayn ponders Harry’s words for a minute, thinking about how he’s always been at least a little, tiny bit intrigued by pole dancing. By how pole dancers are able to look so graceful yet so sexy, how they’re able to make it look so _easy_ when they’re literally holding themselves up in the air as they spin and climb and God knows what else. “I don’t know,” he wavers, afraid to look Harry in the eye.

But maybe he’d like to know how to do it for the future. Just in case. “Well…” he stalls, and though he’s not exactly looking forward to it, it does seem like something he should maybe at least try out.

“And, you know, you _do_ owe me,” Harry says a little too sweetly as he bats his eyelashes. Zayn rolls his eyes, only now remembering last week when he’d asked Harry if he would be his model for his art assignment.

Feeling himself resigning, he shrugs. “Okay, I guess. How hard can it be?”

\---

The answer, it turns out, is _very._

“Harry,” Zayn hisses as he struggles to keep up with the lanky lad. “I can’t do _that_.” His glance shifts to one of the dance rooms, eyes widening as he takes in the ribbons hanging from the ceiling, hoops descending and rising from above as they get ready for their next practice.

Harry laughs good-naturedly. “I’m sure that’s the advanced class, Zayn.” He turns around quickly to flash him a grin. “Told you it was an art form, didn’t I?”

“Oi” is the only thing Zayn can find in himself to return.

Zayn’s contemplating how he can possibly find a way out of this as they turn the corner, finding, apparently, what is the beginners’ room. It looks similar in size to the previous one, only all of the hoops and ribbons are gone, replaced instead by thick poles that rise from the floor to the ceiling. They stand out even more than normal as the bright light from above reflects off their silver, making Zayn gulp.

He’s wondering if and how he could pull off faking sick, maybe throwing up a bit in a trash can for good measure, when suddenly someone shuffles out from behind a door that he hadn’t noticed before. It’s built into the black wall, almost invisible except for a thin line that creates the hallow outline of the door.

It’s a door that screams _backstage._

And what that means, Zayn thinks hazily as his head begins to swim, is that _being_ that just sauntered through the door likely works here. Even worse (or better), he’s likely their--Zayn holds his breath--instructor.

Harry must see Zayn’s eyes practically bulge out of his head, because he looks between Zayn and the instructor a few times before he chuckles almost maniacally. “He’s exactly your type, isn’t he?” Harry smirks. Then, without waiting for an answer, he gloats, “I knew this was a good idea.”

“I guess it was,” Zayn concedes with a small smile, still watching the boy as he sets up his things in the corner of the room.

Suddenly, the boy’s head lifts and his gaze lands on Zayn, catching his eyes. Feeling sheepish, Zayn flushes and quickly looks away.

“Hello, class,” the instructor booms immediately after. “My name is Liam,” he introduces himself easily. He sounds comfortable, even with all those _eyes_ watching him, like he’s done this for a while now. The charisma he holds, the personable way he acts, all of it makes it seem like he’s connecting to each person individually.

And Zayn commends this skill, is in _awe_ of this ability, seeing as he usually can’t talk to a group of more than three people without clamming up.

But, he’s also a bit scared of it, of the power it holds and of how far above Zayn the boy seems to be.

As Liam talks, he keeps his gaze on Zayn for a few seconds before his eyes shift around the room.

“This is the beginning class. As such, I promise I won’t make you get up off the floor for at least a few more lessons,” he teases with a snort.  
Zayn lets out a little breath at this reassurance.

“But this will be challenging,” he warns, rubbing his hands together unconsciously. “So, I recommend stripping down as far as you feel comfortable.” His gaze quickly flashes to Zayn’s skinny jeans before it flitters away, sounding momentarily distracted before he continues. “Because you _will_ get hot. And the more clothes you wear, the harder it’ll be to get the flexibility you need,” he cautions.

Taking in the room, he finds most of the students are already ready to go, while others are quickly and eagerly disrobing as they drool over Liam. Still, though, there’s a few others--like Zayn--that just give each other uncomfortable looks and shift awkwardly from foot to foot.

Seeing this, Liam flashes a grin as he jokes, “Don’t worry, I’ll strip down, too. You won’t be completely alone.” Gesturing to a pile next to him, he finishes, “And I have some extra spandex to wear over your underwear if you didn’t think to bring any.” As no one immediately jumps at the opportunity, he adds, “I highly recommend it… And it’s been washed, I promise.”

At the conclusion of his little spiel, he steps a little further away from the pile to peel off his sweatpants and lift his shirt off his back.

The entire class seemingly falling into a stupor over a half-naked Liam, Zayn takes the opportunity to run forward and grab some spandex.

Still, he can’t stop himself from letting his eyes dart to Liam as he gets undressed.

By the time he’s back and changed into the Spanx, his shirt discarded and forgotten on the floor, Zayn takes a look back to see Liam fully disrobed.

And, well, if Liam thought that him undressing at the same time as them would make it _easier,_ Zayn thinks, he’s really, really wrong.

Because this gives Zayn a chance to see Liam’s taut abs, the crisp tattoos strewn around his arms and hands, the thick trail of dark hair that leads--well, leads somewhere that Zayn can’t think about too much or he’ll have some issues that he can’t really hide in tight spandex.

“Damn.” Zayn’s only mildly aware of Harry’s low mutter as it happens, but he’s definitely very conscious of it as it sends an unexpected twinge to his gut.

He does his best to ignore it.

“Number one rule: don’t forget to drink water, okay?” Liam reminds them all, nodding as he looks each person in the eye. “’Cause we will definitely be getting sweaty tonight,” he promises with a smirk.

He claps his hands together, the sound echoing through the small room. “Alright, everybody find a pole!”

Since the class is relatively quiet, each person gets their own pole, which Zayn thanks his lucky stars for. Since he doesn’t think he needs the embarrassment of anyone else watching on as he fumbles around and fails to look sexy. Even Harry--he wouldn’t necessarily make fun of him for his _dancing,_ sure, but he most certainly _would_ make fun of him for Liam.

Feeling eyes on him, Zayn looks up tentatively. When he catches Liam’s gaze, his cheeks burn.

And maybe he needs to amend his previous statement to say that he doesn’t need anyone else watching besides _Liam._

To begin, he leads them through some basic stretches for a few minutes, slowly warming them up. "Alright, now that we're all ready to go, let's start with the basic position,” he commands.

He clears his throat as he sees some enthusiastic girls already trying to follow along. “Let me show you ladies first, okay?” Waiting until they freeze in their tracks, he continues on, going over how to grip the pole, how far away to stand from it, and how to best stand. Demonstrating it all as he explains in detail, his eyebrows furrow in concentration as he tries his very best to describe the motions and movements that just seem to come so _naturally_ to him.

Then, he says the cursed words that Zayn knew would eventually come. “Your turn now.” He leads them into the correct placement of the hand, walking around as he inspects their grips on the pole, making sure that their hands are high enough up the pole. Seemingly satisfied with most, and gently fixing the few that don’t quite have it right, he nods and continues on.

“Are you all shoulders length away from your pole?” He reminds them with a raise of his eyebrows, and they all look down simultaneously, most people shifting their feet a couple more inches away.

As he’s eyeing the room, he looks to see a few slouched over. Including Zayn.  
He makes a beeline towards him, ready to make him his example. “I’m going to touch you,” Liam warns quietly. “Is that okay?”

“Go--Go ahead,” Zayn stammers.

He holds his breath as Liam’s palm slides along beneath his bare shoulder blades, pushing gently. It’s just enough pressure that Zayn’s forced to align himself and straighten his body. Not that his mind is really focused on any of that, though.

“Keep those shoulders down and back, everyone!” Liam calls out, not moving from his spot next to him. Lifting his hands off of Zayn, he suddenly points to one unsuspecting man. “Don’t make me come over there!” He tries to look serious, angry, even, but it all fails the moment a giggle erupts from his plush lips.

Still, the lad quickly follows Zayn’s lead, lifting his chest forward and throwing his shoulders back in one fell swoop. “Good!” He praises before flashing him a grin.

“And good work to you, too,” Liam mutters to Zayn, attention once more on him. “Thanks for letting me use you as the demonstration.”

“No problem,” Zayn gulps, nodding, because he can’t find it in himself to think of anything else to do.

He only lets out air after Liam’s moved on to Harry, forcing his eyes closed as he tries to distract himself from Liam’s light touch, still aching on his bare, sweaty skin.

It’s not that he doesn’t like talking to him (if that’s what you can even call such a thing). It’s just that it seems to ball up his nerves, the buzz of a pending power surge soaring through his veins.  
But he kind of likes the rush that comes.

“Next, I’ll get into how to walk around the pole.” Liam raises his eyebrows. “Which I know is what you’ve all been patiently waiting for.”

He snorts as he lines up against his own pole at the front of the room. “No one comes to this class to learn how to grip on the pole.”

Harry takes one side-step closer to him to elbow him pointedly in the ribs. “Got it,” Zayn winces. “I’m excited, too,” he responds, but he definitely doesn’t seem it. He sounds more flustered, more worried, than anything.

“You’ll do great,” Harry reassures quietly as he picks up on Zayn’s tone of voice.

Zayn only nods unsurely, forcing his attention back to Liam.

This time around, the instructor only demonstrates first, not explaining anything as he makes his way around the pole. Zayn can’t help but notice the way his body sways just slightly, moving to an invisible beat. And even without music, he has a feeling he could watch this boy, his hips, and the red dusting his cheeks, for eternity.

At the thought, his ears pink and he brings himself back to hear, “Be careful not to hold on too tightly. You want to give your arm and hand the freedom to roam wherever feels natural.”

Zayn has a feeling that Liam could make _anything_ look natural, whether he tried to or not.

“Watch me again,” he directs, pointing out his movements as he goes this time. “Let yourself walk slow, slower than feels right.” He pauses to look up. “Draw it out, like you never want your time with this beloved pole to end.”

Continuing to demonstrate, he explains, “As you walk, dominant foot in front, let the heel of your back foot almost drag.” He exaggerates it to get the point across. “Like this, only less like a zombie.”

When he gets the whole room to chuckle at this, he smiles wide, seemingly chuffed. “Finally, make sure you raise your outer hip just a tad.” Again, he overdoes it to show what he means. “You don’t want to look like a hipless robot.”

He makes all of it look so _effortless,_ as if when he came out of the womb, he already knew just how to sway his hips. And Zayn is completely hypnotized, trying to remember anything he says but failing as soon as Liam’s body moves again.

When he finishes his walk, he pokes his head out from behind the pole, arms wrapped tight around it as he gives them all a mischievous grin. “And you know what Shakira says, right?”

And there’s a few seconds of confused silence before Zayn suddenly gets it. Internally rolling his eyes, he calls out, just loud enough for Liam to hear, “Hips don’t lie.”

He says it as deadpan as he can manage, but there’s a twitch of a smile forcing its way up onto his face.

“Aha!” Liam cries and his smile morphs into him beaming, so excited over such a seemingly small thing.

A giggle bubbles out of Zayn, more at Liam’s reaction than anything he’s really _said._

He’s already beginning to see the two sides of Liam: the serious yet sexy Liam, the one that knows all the moves to get all the ladies (and maybe men, some part of Zayn thinks hopefully); and the light, playful, never-really-grew-up part of Liam, the one that flushes when people laugh at his jokes, when they enjoy his presence and just all of _him_.

And it’s like _this,_ this second part of Liam, is the more vulnerable part of him.

Because anyone can be serious--anyone can show that they know what they’re doing, that they’re smart, and even that they’re _sexy._ But not everyone can put themselves out there enough to test a joke or to tell a story, to leave behind just enough of them to love or to hate.

\---

“I know we’re starting to run out of time,” Liam begins as he rounds up the class again. “But if you’re ready for something a little more challenging, I want to at least guide you through it, so you can practice for the rest of the time.”

He jogs over to claim his pole. “This one incorporates the walk we’ve been perfecting for--“ he glances at the clock--“ten minutes now.” Setting one hand high above him on the pole, he says, “We’ll start the same way with this one. Same position and everything.” He begins to move his legs. “One, two, three steps,” he counts aloud, hips swaying to his words. “Always start with the foot closest to the pole.”

Pausing, he looks out at everyone as he warns, “Now pay attention here.” Beginning to move again, he lifts up his right arm and leg. “As you walk into the fourth step, lift up your exterior arm and leg, and then give yourself a little push to go into a spin.” He easily and gracefully leads himself into a spin around the pole, free hand grasping onto the pole. Hooking both calves around the pole, he continues to explain the motions as he goes.

Watching this, eyes caught on his bulging biceps as Liam spins himself, Zayn suddenly feels dizzy.

But he’s not entirely sure if it’s from watching him spin, or if it’s just from watching _him._

“That one’s called, believe it or not, The Fireman,” Liam explains as he finishes, momentarily trying to center his balance once more. After he does, he demonstrates it again, this time not speaking them through the movements.

When he stops, Zayn’s eyes train on the slight rise and fall of his sweaty chest, all too aware of every breath Liam takes.

“That one’ll tire you out quickly.” Liam gets out with a light chuckle. “Let me get some music going and I can show you what it’ll normally look like.” He jogs over to the stereo system Zayn hadn’t even noticed until now. “Then, you’ll be free to practice whatever you'd like. All to a sick beat.” 

“Are you gonna survive this demonstration?” Harry asks lowly, jerking Zayn out of his almost-trance. When he swats at him good-naturedly, Harry only cackles.

Liam fiddles with the stereo for a moment before splitting a grin when the first bass notes surge through the room, echoing just slightly. He even takes another moment to flip a switch nearby, dimming the lights to a medium glow.

Two seconds in, Zayn’s already placed the song, and he feels his cheeks burn instinctively. It shouldn’t bother him--after all, it’s just a song, right?

“Wouldn’t be my class if I didn’t play some JT, eh?” He teases, and some of the girls giggle at that, apparently very familiar with them.

As the words “Dirty babe” croon over the stereo system, Liam begins his walk, counting aloud again.

“One, two, three, and on four, we spin…” he tapers off as he does it. Zayn groans at this, Liam's silence just making it easier for Zayn to pick up on Justin Timberlake's lyrics.

"I'll let you whip me if I misbehave," the stereo lets out. And, well, Zayn doesn’t really need that thought in his head as Liam spins himself around the pole again. He wraps his legs around it gracefully, with a juxtaposed strength that Zayn can only envy.

As he finishes, bringing his eyes and body back to face center, he grins for a moment before he relaxes his body and says lightly, “I’ll come around to each of you and see if you’re interested in trying this one out yet, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for anyone to agree before he’s already making his rounds. Zayn watches him, intrigued as he walks the students through how to do it themselves.

He’s going faster than Zayn expected--that, or Zayn's sense of time is extremely fucked up by the man that is _Liam_ \--and suddenly, he notices that he’s almost across the room to him. Not wanting to get caught, Zayn quickly sets himself up to walk, practicing only a few times before Liam stands there, hands on his hips.

“Not too shabby, mate,” he says with a smile, and Zayn almost _jumps._ Because while he knew that Liam was nearby, he didn’t know that his eyes were actually trained on Zayn and his technique. He didn’t know he was directly watching and actually _paying attention._

Zayn drops his hand from the pole guiltily, looking at the floor as he flushes again. “Thanks,” he mutters, but he doesn’t sound very grateful.

“You just gotta get outta your shell, yeah?” Liam suggests quietly, taking one step closer towards him. “Mind if I--“ He gestures to the pole.

Zayn shakes his head fervently, trying to keep his mouth from falling open as Liam stands _so close to him,_ doing all the things that make Zayn’s thoughts go mad.

“You gotta pretend they’re all looking at your arse,” Liam says, and he sounds so _serious_ that Zayn can’t help it: he giggles.

“Really?” is all he can find in himself to respond.  
“Not even joking, mate,” he replies, though a small smile’s pulling at his features. “Probably wouldn’t ever find that tip in any technique book though, huh?”

He starts to walk around Zayn’s pole, sliding his hips back and forth as he sways to the beat of "SexyBack" _._ And he’s not sure if it’s what Liam’s asking him to do but--he looks at his arse.

“Just own it and you got it,” Liam advises as he takes a few more steps around the pole. Blinking, Zayn forces his eyes back up to Liam’s face as he begins to talk again. “Same thing for The Fireman. Want to try that one out?” He asks, and Zayn had been planning so hard to say _no_ , had been ready to explain that he _really_ needs to continue working on his walk (because he does), and that he _really_ doesn’t want to do something he isn’t ready for (because he shouldn’t). 

But Liam is there, ready to guide him through it, and he basically just told him to go for it, so, why not?

“Okay,” Zayn says quietly, and Liam is quick to notice his cautiousness.

“Don't worry, we’ll do it together, okay?”

Zayn nods, feeling a little relieved by this--even though his heart pounds faster at the thought.

“Hand up here,” Liam demonstrates and then lifts his hand off of the pole at the last moment, leaving their hands brushing for a half of a second.

“Shoulders,” Liam reminds and ghosts his hand over Zayn’s back before Zayn gives him a little nod.

He gives Zayn’s blade a quick press, a reminder of how to stand, before he moves a bit away from him, hand a little bit higher as he starts them together. “One, two, three,” Liam guides, walking in time with Zayn before he pulls his hand off at the last second. Then, he’s yelling out a “four” and a command to spin before Zayn’s listening to him, not allowing himself to think, just to follow Liam’s voice, and he spins. He places one hand on the pole, just wrapping his legs around it when he falls out of rhythm, suddenly somehow hitting his head against the pole.

He’s slowed down enough at this point that it hardly affects him, he barely even feels it, but it stops him in his tracks, still grasping onto the pole as Liam follows close behind. “You alright?” He asks worriedly, leaning his face down a bit to take a good look at his forehead.

Seeing no bruises, he leans back a little to get a better look at him.  
“I’m fine,” Zayn huffs, taking one small step away from the pole. He blows up air in his face as if that will somehow get rid of the pool of embarrassment surrounding him.

“Happens all the time, actually,” Liam smiles, though it’s not cruelly. “Sounds fake, I know,” he continues when he sees Zayn’s quirked eyebrow and look of disbelief.

“But if you pull your weight towards the inside of the pole, that’s where you’ll go and--well--clonk.” He gives him a quick pout. “But if you keep your weight towards the outside of the pole, your body won’t gravitate towards it quite as much and you’ll be able to keep that face of yours scot-free.”

He smirks a little. “Not that a bruise could really mess up that pretty face of yours too much.”

And, is it because of that bump to his head that he’s not thinking straight, or could Liam, the fittest lad Zayn has ever seen, actually be _flirting_ with him?

The idea makes Zayn feel suddenly lightheaded.

Or, well, no. Maybe that’s not just a feeling, and it’s not just from the idea. Maybe he’s _actually_ lightheaded.

He gulps before he tries to quickly take in air. When he's unable to, his vision begins to spin out of control. He brings his hands to the pole to try to steady himself. "Are you okay?" Zayn can hear a low voice asking, though it sounds like it's from far away and he can't place where it's coming from. He can't find it in himself to respond.

When did the world get so topsy-turvy and bumpy, rough waves on the ocean?

He can distantly feel his grip on the pole loosening, though he's more aware of the sudden sensation of the now-sideways pole--and when did the floor get so close?

The dark mat is the last thing he sees before he blacks out.

\---

“Zayn?” A deep voice says worriedly, seemingly far away. “Are you okay?”

This time, at least, the voice sounds a little bit closer, like he could reach out and touch it.

He blinks his eyes open, and, well, he actually apparently _could’ve_ touched the voice. Or, at least, the owner of it.

“Liam?” Zayn asks weakly, and the other boy nods thankfully.

“Good! You still remember my name,” he praises. He pauses a moment, running his hands up and down Zayn’s arms thoughtlessly. “ _Zayn,_ when I said a bruise couldn’t really hurt your pretty face, I wasn’t asking for _this,”_ he teases, a smile twitching up at the corners.

“Shut it,” Zayn coughs out, leaning against his elbows as he attempts to sit up.

“No, no, don’t make it worse,” Liam chastises lightly as he presses his palm against Zayn’s chest. “Stay down for a minute, let your body recuperate.” He gives him a look, one that says do-not-disagree-with-me-right-now. “We don’t want you fainting again, now do we?”

“Fine,” Zayn grumbles, allowing himself to be laid back down against the mat. Though he’s secretly thankful, because just that little movement felt like hell and a half.

All around him, he’s beginning to hear voices. Voices that he’s almost entirely positive were there before, he just hadn’t noticed them then. He can also feel footsteps sinking the mat underneath him as prying eyes look downwards on their way to the exit.

“I cancelled class a bit early,” Liam explains, watching Zayn wordlessly try to put together the missing pieces. 

“You only ended up fainting for maybe twenty seconds, but I wanted to make sure I could focus all my attention on you,” Liam smiles, and his voice is very rhythmic and even, as if he can feel Zayn’s tight chest, the surge of nausea that threatens to overtake him when he so much as thinks about sitting up.

“Do you remember what happened?” Liam asks gently.

Zayn blinks up at Liam, drawing his eyebrows together as he attempts to remember. “I was trying to do The Fireman when I think I hit the pole?” He bites his lip. “It didn’t hurt much, though. So, I’m not really sure why I fainted, honestly,” he admits.

Liam hums. “I don’t want to guess without seeing what a doctor has to say, but I bet you forgot my reminder to keep your joints from locking.” He quirks an eyebrow. “And have you been drinking water like I said? All this sweat has to come from somewhere.”

Zayn goes to shake his head, but he stops when it makes him feel a little lightheaded again. “No,” he croaks out. “Fire me.”

Liam laughs at this, giving him a soft look before he thinks through his options. “Do you want to try sitting up again?” Liam asks.

He waits patiently for a few minutes, not pushing for a response. He keeps his eyes on him, though, watching for any sort of signal. When he sees Zayn eventually start to try to get up on his own, he lifts out a hand to help him up. 

As soon as Zayn’s safely sitting up, Liam’s looking him up and down, from his eyes to his body, searching for any signs of trouble. “You seem to be doing alright. How do you feel?”

Zayn nods slowly, relieved to have lost the feeling of dizziness when he does. “Better.” He gulps. “Where’s Harry?” He asks quickly, suddenly noticing his friend’s absence.

“Right here, mate,” Harry pipes up from his left and Zayn swivels his head to find the source of the voice.

“Nice to know it took you so long to miss me,” Harry snorts as he reaches out to give him a light punch in the arm. “Not that I blame you,” he adds on, glancing between Zayn and Liam.

“Hush,” Zayn whines, but he grins anyway at the comment. Because, well, maybe it’s not just him that sees the potential.

“You seem like you’re doing fine,” Liam continues, ignoring Harry as he mentally catalogs Zayn’s wellbeing. “But I want to make sure. Do you mind if we go to the doctor to make sure everything’s all good?”

Zayn likes the _we_ in that sentence, likes the idea of having a bit more time with this new, gorgeous, and funny man, so he shrugs, trying to seem like it doesn’t excite him too much. “Sure.”

Harry tags along, of course, but he makes sure to sit in the back, allowing Liam and Zayn to have the front to themselves. He’s even considerate enough to keep the teasing to a minimum (though maybe that's just because he feels guilty, by association, for being the one to make Zayn faint).

“You’re lucky that I was the one teaching tonight,” Liam admits as he flicks the key into the ignition. “For a while, I wanted to be a fireman, so I’ve taken a fair amount of first aid classes.” He chooses this moment to look over at Zayn with a grin, surprised when he sees him chuckling quietly.

“What?” He asks, already sounding amused even though he doesn’t know the joke.

“It’s just--the irony of you teaching The _Fireman_ and wanting to be one.” Zayn realizes it’s not really all that funny, and yet, he can’t stop the laugh that erupts. “ _Then_ , you had to use your fireman-in-training skills during the move,” he points out with a raise of his eyebrows. “Or after the move, I guess.”

Liam shrugs easily, a smile taking over his face. The words come out serious, though, as he says, “Sounds like fate to me.”

And Zayn’s heart beats twice as fast at that, any halfway decent thoughts immediately leaving his brain.

“Maybe,” he whispers, and that's the end of that.

What follows is a minute or two of awkward silence before Zayn finally chokes out, “You know what?”

Liam side eyes him, a curious look on his face as he silently urges him on.

“I don’t think any of your students are really that bad,” Zayn says plainly. He thinks back to the boy he saw who kept supposedly falling to the floor as he practiced his walk. “Seems like they just pretend to be so they can get their hands on you.” And he's not really sure why that's just left his mouth, why he felt the sudden need to say such a thing. His cheeks burn as the words actually process through his head after the fact.

Liam’s eyes lift upwards as he thinks on this, probably going back to all the students he’s helped today. He clears his throat, obviously avoiding answering the question. “Perhaps,” he answers eventually.

“I guess that could be true, yeah,” he adds on, shrugging noncommittally. He bites his lip, seemingly a bit nervous. Giving Zayn one quick, weighted glance, he replies, “And what about you?”  
“What _what_ about me?” Zayn asks after a short pause, confused by Liam’s vague question.

“Do you want to get your hands on me?” Liam says slowly, keeping his eyes on the road as if he’s asking a simple question, like what today’s weather is like.

Harry breaks the silence first. “Ahh, love,” he sighs contentedly from the back seat.

Zayn rolls his eyes, not able to decide if those words bother him more or less than him complaining.

“I mean, depends.” Zayn chances a glance to the boy next to him, doing his best to forget his suddenly sweaty palms and racing heart. “Are you offering?” He counters with a hint of a smirk, ignoring the heat that floods his body at the thought.

Liam flushes bright red at this, turning into the urgent care as he looks straight ahead at the road. “Maybe I am,” he starts cryptically. He pulls the key out of the ignition. “Or maybe I’m not.” Opening the car door, he gives Zayn one last look before he says with a grin, “You decide.”

\---

It’s only when Liam takes the first step inside, suddenly acutely aware of the ten pair of eyes that follow him, that he realizes.

“Leeyum,” Zayn hisses a moment later. “We’re still wearing spandex,” he breathes in a small voice, sounding completely and utterly disturbed by this fact.

“I… know,” Liam gets out in a pained voice, flinching just slightly when he sees Zayn’s eyes flit to the floor in shame.

It’s not that it worries Liam. In fact, he doesn’t mind it at all. What does bother him, however, is that _Zayn_ minds.

“I’m sorry,” Liam bemoans. “I didn’t think about it until just…” He gulps as his eyes scan around the half-full waiting room. “Now.”

“They’re mostly distracted by you, at least,” Zayn says in a light voice, a little tinkly nervous laugh following.

Liam gives another quick look to the others waiting only to find that Zayn is, in fact, right. “Is that good or bad?” Liam asks gently, avoiding eye contact with Zayn as he searches for the reception desk.

“A bit of both,” Zayn admits.

Liam glances over at Zayn to see that he looks a bit sheepish. “Why, you jealous?” He teases, puffing his chest out for show.

Zayn gulps, giving himself a moment to build up his courage. “Jealous that this view isn’t just for me anymore? Yeah, a little.” He jokes back cheekily, though it sounds a bit too serious for him to be fully kidding.

Liam finally turns his head to catch Zayn’s gaze, wiggling his eyebrows and offering a fleeting smile before he faces front again to take the remaining few steps to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hello!” Liam chirps to the receptionist when he makes it to her. “I just wanted to have my, err,” he tapers off, suddenly at a loss for words. “My-- _friend_ checked out.”

His cheeks burn for just an instant as he realizes how it sounds. “His vitals checked out and everything, I mean. He fainted for a bit in my…” He gulps. “My class.” He glances down to his outfit as if that will suddenly explain everything.

Words are Liam's forte. Usually. Today, not so much. But it's not his fault that Liam can't let go of Zayn's words, can't seem to forget that his eyes are still glued to him with every fumble Liam makes.

It also doesn't help that the whole time Liam talks, Harry just stands next to him and nods at everything he says, like he’s agreeing with his unofficial reading on Zayn.

Harry doesn’t stop until the receptionist smiles politely and says, “Very well. Have a seat, boys.” She hands Liam a clipboard with a few pieces of paper on it. “Have him fill these out for us, okay?”

He nods wordlessly, leading all three of them to an empty corner. As they wait in silence, Zayn furiously scribbles on the paper while Liam incessantly bounces his leg, huffing out air. Noticing this, Zayn sets his hand gently over his thigh to get him to stop. “I’ll be fine, Liam,” he reassures. This works, instantly; Liam’s leg stalls.

“Isn’t it usually the one _going_ to the doctor that needs to be calmed down?” Harry teases quietly.

“Shut up,” Liam groans, elbowing him, but he lets out a breathy laugh. He turns his attention to Zayn. “Do you want us both to come with you? Or would you rather us wait here?”

“We can do whatever you want,” Harry chimes in needlessly.

Zayn ponders the question. “I think I’ll have you stay here, if that’s okay?” He almost whispers. Because, in all honesty, he doesn’t think he needs Liam’s ball of nervous energy filling that cramped chamber-like room. Or Harry’s seeming need to care for Zayn just as fervently as Liam.

The two of them nod. “I’ll make sure to tell you everything they say,” Zayn promises, hoping that this makes up for leaving them behind.

And he does, very quickly even. As soon as his name is called, he’s only gone for about 20 minutes before he’s checking out and ready to update them.

“How did it go?” Harry asks, standing up as soon as Zayn turns back to them. Liam quickly follows suit.

“Well,” Zayn draws it out, looking between the two of them for a few seconds before he continues, “The doctor said, and I quote, ‘Make sure to tell your’--“ Zayn titters at what he’s going to say next, already spoiling the joke. “’Boyfriends to watch over you this coming week to make sure it doesn’t happen again.’”

Harry bursts into laughter at the words, slapping Zayn on the back. “Did he really say that, Z?”

“Unfortunately,” Zayn replies with a flinch but he can’t hold back a grin.

Eyes darting to Liam, he’s surprised to see a twinge of shyness, of uncertainty, cross his face.

“Do you think he _really_ thought we were boyfriends?” Harry asks after a moment of silence, seemingly still stuck on this thought. His voice is dreamy, as if such a notion wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Maybe the nurse passed on that info?” Zayn guesses. “Though don’t make me have to tell Louis about how excited you seem to be about that thought, Haz,” Zayn warns with a chuckle and a gentle poke to his arm.

Harry shrugs, completely serious as he says, “He wouldn’t be against it, I’m sure. Not with you and Liam.”

Zayn can logically know that Harry is only teasing, know that he doesn’t _mean_ anything by it. But, he can’t help himself. He flashes a piercing look to Harry at this comment, a searing sort of possessiveness that Harry only smiles knowingly at. “Never mind then,” he surrenders with a raise of his arms. _You can have him,_ his look promises silently.

“Did the doctor say what caused it?” Liam frets after a moment, apparently having ignored that whole exchange (not that that fact bothers Zayn at all). He’s two steps ahead of them both as he walks them to his car, worrying his bottom lip through his teeth.

“He didn’t know for sure, but he said it _did_ seem like it was from dehydration and locking my knees, like you thought. He seemed to think any other reason was unlikely, given the circumstances.” He shrugs. “So, long story short, you were right. Maybe you _should_ have been a fireman or something,” Zayn says, and it comes out more serious, more in awe than he means it to be.

“Good, I’m glad,” Liam nods thoughtfully. “And maybe one day,” he smiles, and when he looks over at Zayn, there’s truth, truth and a bit of hope, in his eyes.

He gestures over to his car as he stops in front of it. “Let me give you both a ride back to your car,” he offers. “ _But_ I can only do it if you promise to have Harry drive and not you.” At Zayn’s pout that forms, Liam stipulates with a raise of his eyebrows, “At least for tonight.”

Crossing his arms, Zayn lets out a little huff. “Fine.” It’s not even that he _likes_ driving that much--there’s a reason it took him almost ten years to get his license--he just hates to be told that he _can’t._  

The whole ride home is basically taken in silence, Liam keeping his eyes on the road except to turn on the radio after a few minutes.

Because what is he supposed to say to someone he just met, someone that fainted in front of him, that he practically forced to the doctor, and that he cared for a little too earnestly? Someone that he seems to _continue_ caring for a little too earnestly?

He doesn't even know for sure that Zayn feels the same way.

So, what next? What _can_ come after that?

By the time Liam parks back at the studio, it’s been a solid ten minutes of quiet, besides Zayn and Harry’s occasional gratitude to Liam for driving them back.

Clearing his throat, Liam states the obvious. “Well, we’re here.” He finally glances over to Zayn. “I really am glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” Zayn mutters. _Wow, Malik_ , he thinks. _Really show-stopping words there_.

Sighing, he forces himself to say in a rush, “Harry, I’ll meet you in the car, okay?”

Harry snorts but stops himself from saying anything. That is, until he’s slid out of the car and is just about to leave. “Don’t snog too long!” He calls out with a wolfish grin. “I have work in the morning.” He slams the door closed before either of them have the chance to react.

 “Sorry,” Zayn apologizes for him as soon as he’s gone, letting out a low groan. “I think he’s been around my other friend, Louis, a bit too long.”

“Don't worry,” Liam laughs and it sounds genuine enough that Zayn does his best to actually do just that.

There’s a moment of silence, a silence that fully permeates Zayn’s head and ears as he fights himself over what he should say, before Liam breaks first. “Listen, Zayn.” He furrows his eyebrows as he glances at him again, this time turning his body a little towards him. “I really like you. Like, maybe more than I should.” He gulps. “And that’s probably pretty obvious by now.” Liam’s cheeks flush as he thinks back to all the things he’s said to Zayn so far, in the span of only a few hours. “And I really want to, well, do something with you.” He doesn’t clarify what such a vague statement means, though Zayn has a feeling he knows.

Be _something with you,_ Liam thinks suddenly. Though he’s not about to say that.

Instead, he sighs. “I don’t know if you feel the same way at all, but…” He thinks through his next words. “But, well, even if you do, that seems like a shit idea given what happened today.”

He’s not quite sure what to say next, not even entirely sure how to clarify what he means, what he wants. Because _hell_ if Liam knows when his head is swimming, those eyes piercing deep into his thoughts and rendering them completely lost, with no map in sight.

“You could give me your number, maybe?” Zayn suggests casually, though it comes out in a quiet breath. And it sounds so _easy_ , Liam has no idea why he hadn’t thought of it before (well, he has a few guesses as to why, and all of them have to do with the distraction that is _Zayn_ ).

Zayn doesn’t wait for an answer, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. Swallowing hard, he carefully sets it on the glove box between them.

It’s only when Zayn gives a little nod to it that Liam understands what he means.

"Yeah, okay," he nods quickly. He fumbles for Zayn’s contacts, adding in his own number with shaky fingers.

“Text me to let me know how you’re feeling tomorrow, alright?” Liam asks, and it doesn’t just sound like a ploy to get to Zayn. Liam sounds _genuine,_ as true and sincere as he can be.

Though, Zayn thinks suddenly, when has Liam ever seemed to be anything but?

So, Zayn does something he doesn’t normally. He agrees. “Okay, I will."

And this time, unlike with the others that tried to chase after him over the years, he actually means it.

He puts his hand on the door handle. “Goodnight, Leeyum,” Zayn smiles shyly.

“Goodnight, Zayn. We’ll talk again soon,” he promises.

“Yeah, we will,” Zayn assures, and this feels like the time he should be leaving, but--

But something doesn’t feel quite right about this goodbye. It feels too formal, too bound to get tangled up with all of those _others_ that Zayn’s begging to leave behind. He's reminded suddenly of Liam's advice from earlier, about getting out of his shell.

So he does something else he doesn’t do normally.

Closing his eyes to psych himself up, he pushes his head forward to press a sudden, quick kiss to Liam’s cheek. The warmth that quickly spreads across Liam’s skin tells Zayn he made the right choice. “Okay, goodnight for real,” he giggles. Giving Liam one last look as he mirrors his goofy grin, Zayn forces himself out the door for the night.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not intend for this fic to get so carried away... but here I am and here you are. 
> 
> I can’t guarantee for sure that I’ll write a second part though it is definitely a very very possible option that I keep considering. If you’d be interested in that, please do let me know, as that will affect my decision! :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, my loves, and I hope you all enjoyed it! Please leave me a comment, or kudos, to let me know what you thought about it x


End file.
